


Princess

by doomsdays



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomsdays/pseuds/doomsdays
Summary: Hilda has always had a thing for her big brother’s best friend...
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a kink meme fill originally posted [here](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=52444#cmt52444).
> 
> This one isn’t especially kinky, but I don’t need anyone coming after me for the age gap between these two. Enjoy!

Baltie is staying the night tonight. He crashes on their couch, sometimes, when money is tight or he needs to lay low. Holst scolds him through it, but there never has been and never will be a time when the Goneril household isn’t open to Balthus. He’s been in Hilda’s life for as long as she can remember, a constant fixture there to pick her up when she falls. He’s been a big brother when Holst wasn’t there, he’s been a friend when she needed a non-judgmental ear, he’s been the subject of every sexual fantasy since she first dreamed about a boy. 

Him staying the night is like one of Hilda’s dreams come true. Like, literally. They’re always the same - so she’s predictable, so what? A girl can dream, and a girl can have what she likes, thank you. Baltie stays over, sleeps on the couch or in the guest room. He sleeps shirtless, in loose grey sweats pulled low past the v of his hips. In her dreams, she goes to him, hair cascading down her back, in a nightie that makes her tits look great, wakes him up with a hand on his dick or her lips on his ear and he takes it from there. He does the work, he takes the reins - that’s how Hilda Valentine Goneril operates. The point is that she _gets what she wants_.

In her dreams… in _every_ dewy-thighed, dripping dream. Every intense, world-rocking wave of pleasure brought on by her collection of dildos filling up her pussy, every lip-biting, toe-curling orgasm she dragged out of herself with her favorite (pink) wand vibrator, has led up to this. 

Tonight’s the night. 

And so, she makes a night of it. Let Baltie have his time with Holst, and she’ll be better for it. Left alone, no hint of rushing. A girl _can’t_ be expected to rush when it comes to seduction. A bath with jasmine oil leaves her skin soft and supple and the conditioner she works through her hair is candy-scented, carefully chosen for just a _tiny_ hint of cuteness. She shaves all over, slow, gentle strokes that won’t abrade her delicate skin. Primrose perfume is dabbed on her wrists, her neck, the insides of her thighs - every fluttering pulse point that she wants to feel Baltie touch, every sensitive place his fingers or mouth could bring her pleasure. She curls her hair and dries it, brushes out the curls into soft waves that cascade in a glossy pink waterfall down her back. She knows a lot about boys, about _men_ , and she thinks she has a good grasp on Baltie’s tastes, so she dots on clear gloss and feathers her lashes with mascara - he’ll like her more natural, less made-up. 

When she hears Holst’s heavy footsteps approach her door, hears his knuckles rap the wood she chirps, “Goodnight, big brother!” ever the good, dutiful little sister. Her fingers are trailing up and down her legs, dragging tortuous paths from the inside of her knee to the tops of her thighs, anything to pass the slow-ticking time until she can have him. Holst’s footsteps continue down the hall, into his room, and only when she can hear his snoring even this far down the hall does she think it’s safe. 

She knocks on the door to the guest room even though it’s unlocked, waits for Balthus’ “Hey, come in!” enthusiastically given. He’s laying on the bed, thumbing through a magazine when she enters and god, looking at him makes heat clench in her gut. His body is like a work of art, a statue in a museum, a masterpiece she craves to touch. He’s the sexiest guy she’s ever seen, all muscle, almost matched in raw strength with Holst and proud of his fists and footwork. She wants him so bad. She’s wanted him for a long time, probably even before he leaned over her and kissed her, _so I can make sure your first kiss is someone who really loves you, Hillie, just, uh… don’t tell Holst, okay?_ Probably even before she was off-limits, probably even before it was painfully obvious what they wanted each other bad.

“Heya, Hillie!” he says, calling her the nickname he’s used since they were kids, and the heat in her gut clenches up tighter. She can _feel_ her pussy pulse, can feel a tiny bit of her own wetness squeeze out when she shifts her weight. 

Still, she has to do this right. A girl has to be cute. A girl has to lure him in… she can’t just throw herself at him even if she wants to. “I can’t sleep,” she pouts, setting the stage for her presence as she locks the door behind her. Holst is dead asleep, snoring in his room, but still. “I figured you would still be up!”

_I was hoping you’d still be up._

She sits down on the edge of the bed, finger trailing over a crease in the sheets before leaning in. “Baltie... can you hold me? You know, like you used to when we were little?”

“Well, sure Hillie… c’mere, snuggle up!” He puts the magazine down in a heartbeat, holding out his arm and offering her a smile - the same stupid, kind of silly, handsome one she’s always know . His eyes are different, though - there’s something dark and hungry in them.

She snuggles in close to him. His body is warm and solid against her, all muscle against her own. Her breasts squish against his side, nipples hard behind the filmy fabric of the nightie she’d chosen. She rests her hand on his stomach, feels him tense, relax, tense again, feels the arm around her grip her shoulder just a little bit tighter.

“Baltie…” she says, trailing a finger along his navel, nail nicking against the pleasure trail descending into his loose sweats. She can see the print of his dick in the loose cotton, can see the way it twitches just enough to tease when her finger trails lower still. 

“Hillie…” he says, and her little old heart just about breaks when she thinks he might tell her to stop. Might tell her Holst would never approve, might tell her she’s just like a sister, might tell her she’s too young, but all he says is, “easy, little lady.”

It’s an invitation, and she needs to get what she wants. She rolls so she’s tucked into the crook of his arm, chin on her hand looking down at him as she keeps her fingers trailing, teasing. She’s no virgin, she knows this game - just a touch, innocuous enough to do little more than tease and innocent enough that when their dicks get hard, she can clap a hand over her mouth and tell them how _naughty_ they are before she leaves them unsatisfied. She’s not going to leave Baltie unsatisfied, though. Baltie isn’t some dumb boy she snuck into her room when her parents were out and Holst was asleep, Baltie isn’t the boys at school she’d get to do her work for her with just a tiny touch and a quick bend-over so they can look up her skirt. 

Baltie is _Baltie_ , and she knows what she saw in his eyes years ago. He wants her, too.

“Your brother… “ he starts, even though his eyes are drifting downward, ogling her tits like he’s never seen a pair before. Hilda bets he probably has, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her that makes her feel special, makes her nipples harden so much they _ache_ , makes her crave Balthus’ mouth on them. “He’s right down the hall. Hilda, I’m not gonna lie to you… I’m not a liar. I want you. Goddess, I want you, but your bro… he told me to keep you safe, and-“

“You’re _horrible_ , Baltie!” she says, moving so her tits are pressed to his bare chest, so she’s less snuggled into his side and more laying half on top of him. Her nipples are hard, achingly so, and she cries out when the sensitive skin hits Balthus’ absolute chiseled _wall_ of a chest. “Just how long are you going to keep a girl waiting?”

She moves so she’s straddling him, strong thighs cradling his hips. It puts her pussy into almost-direct contact with him, the soft hair of his pleasure trail lining up perfect with her. She grinds down once, twice, and Balthus resists every urge to buck up against the heat of her. He wants her, it’s true. He _knows_ she saw him looking, and now he’s _said it._ Now it’s there, irrevocable. 

Her nightie rides up, shows off the lacy thong she’s wearing, delicate maroon strips against the strong lines of her hips. Her stomach is gorgeous, smooth skin that’s creamy-pale behind the veil of filmy fabric covering it, muscular and _goddess_ , so sexy. Her pussy is hot against his belly and for a second, it’s all he can think about. Every brain cell (and hell, he’ll be the first to admit, there aren’t many) has migrated to his dick.

She flattens her palms against his chest and leans forward, breasts pillowing perfectly between the cradle of her biceps. “Because I’ve been waiting for like… years.”

“Hilda,” he says, as he lifts his hands from the bed, lowers them, lifts them again. Leaves them in some awkward case of hover-hand near her hips, fingers inches from digging into the swell of her cute ass. 

“You want me, Baltie,” Hilda says, reaffirming what he’d told her. “And I want _you_ , so who _cares_ what Holst thinks? I’m not a little girl anymore. I know what I want!”

She slides her hands up his chest until they’re planted into the pillow on either side of his head, body bending to follow the path of her hands as she rests her chin on his chest. “No one’s good enough for me because they aren’t _you_.”

Balthus flips her with enough ease to knock the breath out of her. Now _this_ is what she wants, a guy, a real _man_ to take charge, to get her flat on her back and really put his back into it. She laughs, arching her back so her tits press up prettily, nipples peeking out from her low-cut nightie. Balthus dips his head to suckle them, rolling one over his tongue and then the other, teeth nicking over the hard nubs she's squirming. 

“You want the King, huh?” he teases, nudging her legs apart with his knee. He looks hot with his dick tenting his sweats, and even the wet print the drippy head is leaving on the fabric is kind of hot and she’d normally think that was annoying. Gross, even, because guys always wanted her to do stuff for them and didn’t listen to _her,_ won’t let her lie back and enjoy the ride.

Baltie will, though. “Nothing but the best for my Princess,” he says, tongue licking a swath up the skin between her breasts, making her arch up against him.

_Princess_! Goddess, here’s a guy who really knows how to treat her. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it Hillie? You wanna be pampered,” he says, and he’s not wrong. Hilda doesn’t _work_ in bed. She just doesn’t. It’s not her style or her desire, and Baltie is the kind of guy who knows that. Just like she expected, just like she wanted. Just what she needs. “I gotcha, girlie.”

Balthus skims his hand up the inside of her thigh until one of his calloused thumbs glosses over her pussy. She’s wet, and the lace is clinging to her, and under Balthus’ finger the slick folds of her swallow up the tiny strip of fabric until it’s obscene. He scoots forward, lifting her hips so the backs of her thighs meet his, so she can _see_ her cutest lacy thong get totally wet and ruined in her slick folds. Goddess, Baltie is lucky, though… she has the cutest pussy, really, and he’s getting to touch it. 

“Look at that,” Balthus says. “Your hungry pussy will take anything.” 

She whines, unused to being teased. _She’s_ the one who does the teasing, thank you very much. Balthus moans, low and velvety, so sweet it makes her teeth hurt the same way the gaze of his warm chocolate eyes make her melt, and pushes her panties to the side to glide his finger up the length of her. She whimpers, legs spreading wider, beckoning him inside. He gets two thick fingers in easy, thumb circling her clit as he gets her used to it.

It’s easy to get her legs over his shoulders, and he does it without hesitation, pausing only to glide his hands up her thighs, her calves, offering a wolf-whistle of appreciation for the body she’s reluctantly honed. She ragdolls, lets herself be manhandled, lets Balthus fold her near in half to expose her slick pussy, lets _him_ line up the angle once he’s stripped his sweats off and tossed them somewhere on the guest room’s richly carpeted floor.

The first press of his dick against her makes her shiver. It’s so hard, so big and thick and heavy when it bumps against her clit, makes her yelp out a gasp that she slaps playfully at him for. How dare he yank such an undignified moan out of her!

“C’mon, Baltie…” she sing-songs, rocking her hips so his cockhead glides along her slit. Ooh, she wants him in her so _bad_ , and he gives it to her: takes his dick in hand and holds it steady, pushes it inside with a moan that’s more of a growl, like some gross, horny animal getting what it wants. It should turn her off, but it just makes her moan. 

Once he’s in as much as he can be, he gives her a second, lets her adjust to the length, the girth, all that the King of Grappling has to offer. She’s so tight around him, walls clenching with every squirm, chest heaving and kissable tits bouncing with every shaky breath she takes. Slow, easy, he guides her legs back around his hips instead of over his shoulders and slides his hands under her back, palms flat against her shoulder blades to lift her up, guide her astride his kneeling position.

She whines, disappointed, unwilling to put forth more effort but his hands find her hips, soothe, “Easy, girlie,” and lift her, move her. “I wouldn’t make you work.” 

Her tits are in his face and he isn’t shy at all about biting them in earnest, lips closing around one nipple and then the other, tongue curling around them, biting in time with every time he rocks his dick up into her. She holds on tight, fingernails dragging up and down his back, head lolled back and teeth digging into her lip so she doesn’t moan too loud. 

He drags it out, just as good as she thought he’d be, maybe even better. He keeps her going, keeps her riding the waves of passion slow and easy until her orgasm is cresting over her, a tidal wave she can’t ignore. She’s close, so close, just barely dangling over the edge - just a breath, feather-light, could tip her over, and just like that he slows down, drags the orgasm out of her slow and steady, has her twitching on his dick.

He doesn’t even miss a beat. When she’s done trembling from the first he changes the angle, sets her back down on the bed with her legs spread wide. His thrusts are different now, shallow and rapid-fire, thick cockhead stretching her pussy wide with every movement. His fingers cup her, spread her wider still, and his thumb finds her clit. He doesn’t press hard, just gives her a little bit of pressure, circles his thumb until she’s quivering and shaking all over again. It’s so much, it’s better than it’s ever been with a dildo and her vibe even when she was thinking about him. 

She comes again, hard and fast, pleasure creeping up her spine and blossoming into her body, making her feel jelly-legged and helpless, more of a doll in his grasp than she already felt. He’s still pumping into her, dick still pressing a spot up inside that makes her whimper, thighs clutched snug around him and nails dragging down his bare, sweaty back. 

Her body feels tense and boneless all at once, exhausted from being wound too tight about to snap, pleasantly half-numb from pleasure and threatening to dissolve into nothingness. She thinks Baltie might be saying _you’re so pretty, you’re such a good girl,_ or something like that, but her brain’s too blissed-out and she’s kind of enjoying getting to lie back and watch Balthus work. His body is a well-oiled machine and every ripple of muscle as he moves entrances her: the way his arms flex as he lifts her, moves her, the cut of his hips as they fuck into her, the furrow of his brow and the bob of his throat as he swallows a throaty moan when he comes. Deep inside her, where she wanted. No biggie!

Balthus leans down and presses his face into her chest, nuzzling kisses on the tender insides of her tits. “I imagined you’d want me to do all the work, Hillie, but I never imagined you’d be such a pillow princess.”

As if she’d be anything else.


End file.
